


lost time

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon-Typical Violence, Creampie, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Possessive Behavior, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 09:42:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25847527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: But one stands out among the rest. Long inky hair, smooth skin and that sharp piney smell on the air, cutting through the scent of dry desert. With the dancer’s veil obscuring all but his eyes, it’s impossible to tell if his familiarity is just wishful thinking.~Or, Sylvain chases a ghost.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 96





	lost time

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for dub con and felix's junk referred to with afab terms

They ride from the castle at dawn, traveling light and prepared for a bloody, grueling trip. They won’t be seeing the inside walls of Fhirdiad for at least a fortnight as they sweep along the edges of the king’s territory and flatten rowdy villages back into subservience. They travel light and move fast, crossing miles at a time and rolling through several sparse towns each day. Their battles are quick and vicious. Fathers beg for their lives while trying to sell their women, omega and alpha alike. Dimitri declines the offers. None of them are his type. 

They crest the hill looking over their last conquest. Two weeks of grime clings to their skin. A stink of blood and violence follows their small party, made up only of the king, Sylvain and a few of their most trusted guards. The sun is setting as the Boar King leads them down into the valley. He’s as wild as the stories say and not for the first time, Sylvain feels lucky to ride at his side.

They stay together and meet a small militia at the gates of the village. Sylvain runs one of them through with his lance as Dimitri dismounts. An arrow from Ashe’s bow sinks into a man’s eye socket and Dimitri rips the leader’s head from his shoulders. The fight goes out of the town then, a hush falling over the onlookers poorly hidden in their houses. With blood still dripping from the clawed tips of his gauntlets, Dimitri calls out for them. “Bring your valuables out peacefully and we will protect you. I don’t wish to burn anymore villages tonight.” With the demand comes a promise of protection, both from the Boar King’s wrath and the raping of bandits along their territory.

Two weeks of pillaging should have left their saddlebags bulging, but these towns are poor and weak. They’ve taken their spoils in grain for their horses and meals for themselves. The other men have taken whores, while Dimitri usually asks for a bath. But this place is different. Ramshackle houses disguise mountains of silver and gold, weighing heavy in Sylvain’s palms as they move door to door.

They draw closer to the heart of the town, glowing with magical lanterns. Sylvain watches as unaware citizens stumble from brothels, sexed out and carrying the smell of opium on their skin. Somehow, they’ve found a hub of hedonism, brimming with sex and riches. Suspicion curdles in his stomach and he twists to find Dimitri. “Hurry.” The king doesn’t question him further, just gives a curt nod and a sharp whistle. Their men fall into line, hurrying from house to house and taking what they’re offered without bothering to check further. Sylvain smooths his hand over the flank of Ashe’s horse and catches his attention. “Stay vigilant.” Ashe knocks an arrow with a short nod.

Dimitri and Ashe stay mounted while Sylvain and the rest of the men go from house to house. He’s careful to not let any of the locals get too close. Their strangely peaceful raid is finished quickly and Dimitri prepares to ride out of this too quiet, dangerous place. Sylvain is soothing his horse and adjusting his saddlebags to follow suit when he spots him.

A crowd of dancers spill out of another brothel and into the main square. They move in a flurry of clattering jewelry and whispers of gauzy fabric. Their feet are bare with their strong bodies on display for all to see. They form a loose circle lit ethereally by the flickering orbs caged in lanterns. But one stands out among the rest. Long inky hair, smooth skin and that sharp piney smell on the air, cutting through the scent of dry desert. With the dancer’s veil obscuring all but his eyes, it’s impossible to tell if his familiarity is just wishful thinking. “Sylvain?” His king calls for him, but he’s still watching the dancer as he turns away. His hips swing along with the rest of the crowd as they hoot and holler with a carefree joy that feels out of place with a raiding party so close.

There’s something wrong about this place, Sylvain’s sure. But he has to know. He gathers his horse’s reins in his fist instead of mounting up. He guides her toward the dancers. “Ride on without me. I shall follow.” He doesn’t turn to see Dimitri’s face, but if he has protests, none of them are strong enough to drag Sylvain back astride his horse.

Sylvain breaks into the plane of the plaza. The ring of dancers sways in sync toward him, and that one, familiar like the ghost of a loved one, startles. While the rest of the dancers titter and watch Sylvain, his mark breaks away from the group. Sylvain abandons his horse and chases after that ghost.

It’s a near fruitless effort to try and keep up with him. He obviously knows the town better than Sylvain ever could and moves in soft silks rather than bulky armor. Sylvain sucks in lungfuls of that piney scent as the ghost disappears around another corner. “Goddess,” he mutters and breaks into a run again. Away from the thick scent of the other dancers, Sylvain can smell the edge of omega in his scent. He pursues it diligently until he skids into a dead end. The omega is pounding on a door in front of him, cursing and shouting as he rattles the doorknob.

Whoever’s inside doesn’t let him in and Sylvain bears down upon him. He tries to dart around Sylvain’s bulk, but he catches him around the waist and throws him back against the wall. “Felix,” he says. A spark lights in the omega’s eyes and it’s enough to confirm that Sylvain’s not chasing a ghost. Instead, a long lost love, promised to him so many years ago--only to disappear.

Knowing Felix, it’s not all that surprising when he pulls a knife on Sylvain. He jumps back from the first slash with a laugh and grabs Felix by the wrist before he can run. He’s strong, stronger than Sylvain expects, and nearly dislocates his own shoulder as he throws his weight against Sylvain’s grip. He growls and tugs Felix back against his chest. “Calm down,” he hisses.

Felix responds by spitting at him and trying to stab him again. He catches him by the other wrist, squeezing and grinding those fine bones together until he’s forced to let go of the blade. Sylvain pushes him back, letting go of one wrist to cup the back of his head and keep him from cracking his skull. Even with Felix’s strength, it’s easy enough to pin him up against the wall with the sheer bulk Sylvain has over him. “Felix,” he says, again. “Don’t you recognize me?”

His squirming pauses. In the lull, their chests heave and Felix’s veil dances in front of his mouth. Sylvain moves his hand and drags it off his face. And there he is. Sylvain’s long lost omega. His eyes flicker over Sylvain’s face and his mouth softens from a scowl into a shocked part. Sylvain grins and the desperate grip he’s keeping on Felix relaxes.

Almost as soon as that softness comes, it disappears. Felix surges against him with enough strength to knock him off balance. Sylvain curses as Felix darts away from him. Still, he isn’t fast enough. Sylvain tackles him to the dirty ground and feels the delicate fabric hiding Felix’s body tear. “Damn you, Felix! What’s waiting for you back there, huh?” Sylvain curls a hand around the back of Felix’s neck and shoves his face into the dusty ground.

“Doesn’t matter,” he hisses. Sylvain startles at the sound of his voice, mean and jaded as his scent curdles into distress. “Not interested in being your knot warmer.” 

Sylvain growls, a rolling thunderous thing that cuts through Felix’s rough outside and deep into his instincts. For a moment he goes pliant beneath him and Sylvain leans in to nose at his cheek. “You made a promise to me, omega, don’t you remember?”

Felix takes a shaking breath. “We were kids.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve found you and now you  _ will _ make good on that promise.” Felix shudders beneath him, shaking with barely restrained rage. Sylvain breathes hot against the side of his face, instincts making him feel hot as he domineers over the omega. “You’ve waited for me. I can smell it.” Through and through, Felix smells like omega, sweet and somehow untouched in this disgusting place. He digs his nose into that sensitive crook of Felix’s neck. Still, he trembles and stays silent, scent almost painful where it curls into Sylvain’s nose.

He tries a different approach. “There’s nothing left for you here,” he purrs, pitching his voice low and soothing. Partially against his will, Felix softens under him. “You will be treated well. Clothed, bathed, fed, given whatever you wish.” He loosens the predatory grasp he’s kept on Felix, testing the waters as he pants below him. “There’s no need to be a street dancer, when you could be mine.” 

The fight finally goes out of Felix with a sigh. Sylvain almost can’t believe it. “Are you going to get off me so we can leave? Or are we going to lay here?”

Sylvain snorts and lets go of him. He doesn’t even try to buck him off and run. He doesn’t run once Sylvain stands either, just climbs to his feet and curses at the tears in his pants. Sylvain closes some of the distance between them and reaches up to thumb some of the dirt off his cheek. Felix grits his teeth when Sylvain only succeeds at smearing the filth on his face, but he’s obedient enough. “Town square’s this way.”

Felix leads them back through tight, winding alleyways until the flickering magical light washes back over them. His horse has only wandered a few paces away and perks up a little once she sees Sylvain. “Not dead,” Felix comments.

Sylvain jogs over to her and pats at her flank. She doesn’t seem to be injured in any obvious way, but that doesn’t mean much. “Hopefully she’ll survive the trip home. Goddess knows what they might have given her to eat.”

Felix quirks an eyebrow. “You aren’t as stupid as I remember.” Sylvain rolls his eyes and helps Felix up into the saddle. Sylvain hoists himself up and gathers the reins into his hands.

“Let’s get out of here.”

~

Night falls with a prickling cold, only worsened by the wind that sneaks under the notches in Sylvain’s armor. Felix clings to him and shivers along the line of his spine. He pushes harder than he should, riding late into the night to try and make good time. They come to a stop where the dusty featureless land of the desert gives way to thicker trees. “Let’s stop for the night.” 

Felix climbs down first and Sylvain follows. “I’ll build a fire.” Sylvain drops his bedroll and unfolds a thick wool blanket. Felix doesn’t seem entirely thrilled by a rough blanket made even more prickly by horse hair, but he wraps it around himself anyway. Sylvain makes camp quickly, spreading out his bedroll for Felix to stand on as he gathers kindling. He strikes his flint and steel together until the brush finally catches. He loads it with some heavier kindling and works some of the feeling back into his fingers.

Felix shuffles closer to the fire and does the same. Sylvain pulls a few mushy apples out of his saddle bags and offers it to his horse. She snuffles in apparent disgust but eats what she’s given. “What’s her name?” The sound of Felix’s voice makes Sylvain start and drop the second apple into the dust.

Sylvain bends over and picks it up. He clears his throat and feels his cheeks go a bit pink. “Uh, well.” He lifts the apple up to her and she eats it in two quick bites. “Peanut.”

Felix barks a laugh, as if he’s surprised by the noise. “Peanut?” Sylvain’s traitorous horse perks up and swings her head toward Felix at the sound of her name. He laughs again, sweet and soft. Sylvain can’t help but grin as he finishes giving Peanut her food. “What a stupid name.”

Sylvain takes down his waterskins and pours some into a dish for Peanut. “Here. We don’t have any food, but this should keep us going.” He hands it off to Felix who takes a few carefully small drinks. “You’re gonna want more than that,” Sylvain says and Felix scowls as he drinks some more. Once Peanut has had her fill, Sylvain drinks his own and sits down beside Felix. They warm themselves silently, until Sylvain yawns for the first time. He unbuckles the most uncomfortable of his armor and stretches out over the bedroll.

“Don’t tell me that we’re sharing this,” Felix grumbles.

Sylvain grins. “Sorry.” He scoots to the very edge of the roll and extends his arms. Felix looks suspiciously over his shoulder. “I mean I could sleep in the dirt, freeze to death and then strand you here.” It’s a bit of an exaggeration, but it has Felix laying down next to him and drawing the scratchy blanket over their bodies. The heat is magnified between them and it’s easy to fall asleep and stay asleep, even once the fire burns down to embers.

~

They ride on at dawn with two more days of travel ahead of them. They ride for half a day until Peanut is irritable and refuses to move at the pace Sylvain wants. Sylvain gives her water and half her meal before they continue on. They make camp at dusk after covering a good distance. Sylvain helps Felix down out of the saddle and cringes again at his bare feet. “Don’t they hurt?” Felix grabs the bedroll and blanket, spreading them out while Sylvain goes about making a fire.

“What?”

“Your feet.”

Felix glances down at them and shrugs. “Not any more than usual.”

Sylvain gathers a little bundle of brush and sparks it into a low flame. They lapse into silence until the fire gets going. “Should’ve gotten you a pair of shoes before we left.” Felix laughs sharply. “What?” Sylvain hands him a waterskin and sits down next to him.

He shakes his head and takes a sip. Sylvain is patient, knowing that nudging him along won’t do much good. “I can’t remember the last time I wore a pair of shoes.” Sylvain looks at him, trying to conceal his surprise. That single sentence opens up onto a thousand questions that he’s been turning over in his head while riding. They watch the fire and Sylvain tries to choose his words carefully.

“Why’d you leave?”

“I didn’t,” Felix snaps immediately. Sylvain goes to say something smart and closes his mouth again. Even ten years on, he remembers receiving the letter. It had been addressed to the Gautier family at large, but when Felix was the subject of the letter, Sylvain hadn’t even needed to fight Miklan for it. He remembers reading it again and again and again, humiliating tears warping the paper as he tried to understand why Felix would run off without him. “They lied.”

It falls into place. They being the insurgents that ripped Faerghus territory apart after Rodrigue died and no suitable alpha heir had been produced. The ones that divided power for half a decade, until Dimitri raged across the lands and pulled their kingdom back into working order. Sylvain opens his mouth, but Felix beats him to it. “They sold me off after Rodrigue died.”

Hot anger clenches so hard around Sylvain’s heart he can barely see. “To who?”

Felix shrugs. “The highest bidder.” The flames lick higher in front of them and cast an orangey halo as the last of the sun’s rays fade. “I was to be a consort, but they put me to work after I mutilated one of the guards.” Felix says it with a smile, but Sylvain can see where it cracks a bit around the edges.

“What happened then?” He wants to know. After so many years, he feels like he owes it to Felix. Now, he’s here. Now, he can carry this burden with him.

“They put me to work for a while. I played nice and got more privileges.” Felix tucks his feet under himself and leans forward. He starts drawing patterns in the dirt below them, nonsensical and mesmerizing. “I stole a weapon, killed a guard and escaped,” he says, as if they’re discussing the next full moon.

“Wow.” Sylvain’s eyes flick from his drawings up to his face.

“Without an education or trade things were… hard.” His brow furrows, as if he’s only now getting to the difficult part of the story. “I had no interest in being a whore. Any who tried to force me came out the other side with less fingers and empty pockets.” He lapses into silence and finishes his drawing. Looking at it now, Sylvain realizes the patterns are of their crests, repeated and interlocking. He swallows. “Eventually, I became a dancer. And I survived.”

Sylvain stares at those symbols of their families, of themselves. “Why didn’t you come back?”

Felix lapses into a silence so long, Sylvain doesn’t think he’ll get an answer. “I didn’t think there was anything left for me,” he whispers.

The words land like a punch to the center of Sylvain’s chest. They’re only a few inches apart, connected by the blanket hanging around their shoulders. It would be so easy to grab Felix, crush him into Sylvain and never let him go. So much easier than trying to speak every thought that's found a home clamoring in his skull. Sylvain leans a little closer to him, until their shoulders are brushing. He’s emboldened when Felix doesn’t move away and twists to nose at his cheek. This has always been easier than talking.

Felix lets out a shaky little breath. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t push Sylvain away either. He keeps them suspended in the moment, lips a breath away from Felix’s skin as their scents thicken and entangle. Eventually, the moment has to break and it does with Felix’s yawn. Sylvain laughs and lets him pull away. “C’mon, I’m cold,” Felix snaps, drawing the blanket over him and looking expectantly at Sylvain. He grins and curls around Felix, closer than he dared the night before. It’s even warmer like this and Sylvain’s careful to not let his hands wander.

~

Sylvain wakes a bit before dawn and shakes Felix awake. He jerks out of sleep, looking half murderous until he recognizes where he is. “It’s early,” he grumbles. Sylvain chances losing a few fingers and smooths his palm over Felix’s greasy hair.

“Let’s go home.”

~

Fhirdiad looms on the horizon as a dark silhouette with the sun setting behind it. Felix’s arms tighten around his middle and Sylvain pushes Peanut even harder. Horns announce their arrival as Peanut’s hooves pound over the flagstones and through the gate. Sylvain brings them to a stop and sighs, relief pouring over him palpably. Finally, time for a bath and a hot meal.

Ashe meets them in the courtyard, managing to cover his surprise at the second person on Sylvain’s horse. He coos at Peanut as they dismount and then passes her on to a stable hand. “Welcome back,” he says. Sylvain nods and pointedly ignores the curious glances Ashe gives Felix. “Dimitri wants to see you.”

Sylvain sighs. “Alright, thanks Ashe.” He claps the archer on the shoulder and starts off toward the throne room. Felix follows closely, looking around the capital he once knew with a reserved sort of awe. “He’s not the Dimitri you once knew,” Sylvain warns.

Felix gives him a caustic look. “I know of the Boar King.” Sylvain raises his hands in surrender and they enter the massive hall. Dimitri’s throne is a long walk ahead of them, but he stands once he sees the pair.

“Sylvain, I’m so glad you’re back.” Relief shines on his face as his voice booms through the room. Felix flinches only slightly. “And you brought…” They’re only a few paces away now and Dimitri freezes in place. Sylvain stops as well and brings an arm across Felix’s body. Dimitri blinks, looking all the same that Sylvain’s sure he had when he first saw him. “Felix…” he murmurs. “How did… he was there?”

Felix bristles beside Sylvain, and he draws his arm back to his side. “Ask him yourself.” Dimitri’s gaze focuses back on their old friend. Instead of repeating the question, he closes the space between them, so fast that Sylvain can’t intervene. He drags Felix into a crushing hug, his hulking form dwarfing the omega as he shakes with some unnamed emotion. Sylvain watches carefully, waiting for Felix’s face to twist into discomfort. It doesn’t. He presses his forehead into Dimitri’s shoulder and lets himself be held.

“Thank you for coming back to us,” Dimitri says. Sylvain’s chest aches. Felix is quiet. The king draws back, smiling. Felix looks about as shocked as Sylvain expected. “Welcome home, Felix.”

~

Nearly a month into sleeping in a real bed and Felix still can’t break the habit of waking with the sun. Heavy curtains are pulled over the windows and still, when Felix opens his eyes he can see the first rays of morning light through the cracks. He sighs and rolls onto his back, trying not to jostle the bed too much. At the other edge of the mattress, Sylvain continues to sleep, snoring softly and probably drooling onto his pillow. An uncomfortable bubble of fondness swells in Felix’s chest as he watches Sylvain sleep.

A month into being in Fhirdiad and still Felix was sure he’d jolt awake from the dream at any moment. That he would blink and be assaulted by the sickly sweet smell of poppy, instead of the rich earthy smell of Sylvain’s skin. It still seems too perfect. Sylvain keeps his promises, dressing, clothing and feeding Felix whatever he wants. Even sleeping in the same bed as Sylvain didn’t seem all that terrible when he kept his hands to himself. Their scents mingle on their clothes and in Felix’s hair, making him feel protected and cared for.

Of course, he hadn’t told Sylvain that. He doesn’t intend to. In the same way he doesn’t intend to tell Sylvain that he likes waking up before him to count the freckles on his cheeks and see his hair before he tries to tame it. Or how he’s not going to tell Sylvain that his heat should be coming soon. It’s something that he’s always kept track of with scratches on the insides of cells or braids in the underside of his hair. That upcoming heat is definitely a problem for a future Felix.

Sylvain stirs, his snores pausing as he rolls away from Felix and nearly off the bed. He takes that as his cue to get up and avoid getting caught staring. He dresses in soft breeches and buttons a linen tunic up to his throat. Over it he pulls on a fur lined coat to stave off the Faerghus chill. He leaves their shared rooms and makes his way to the kitchen.

He’s free to come and go as he pleases. Sylvain spends what time he can with him and the rest Felix occupies on his own. Eating is a good way to pass the time, considering his appetite has been reduced to unleavened bread and partially moldy fruit for the last ten years. So is training, learning again how to hold a sword and having fun fighting dirty with Dimitri’s chivalrous knights. At first, Felix expected to be monitored even when Sylvain isn’t around, but he’s left alone for the most part.

He pushes into the kitchen and nearly gets mowed down by a cook. “Sorry, Sir Fraldarius!” That’s new too. The title, the power, even only being Sylvain’s plaything. As long as he didn’t think about why too much, Felix could enjoy the authority. Ashe spots him almost immediately, grinning and waving him over to one of the ovens.

“Look!” Felix stoops down obligingly and spots some sort of tart bubbling appealingly. “You wanna try it with me?” Ashe asks. They’ve become fast friends, against all odds. Felix crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the counter.

“As long as you don’t burn it.”

Ashe squeaks and uses a wooden paddle to adjust the position of the tart. “Goddess, don’t scare me like that, Felix!”

A few minutes later, the tart is golden brown and Ashe nearly scalds himself trying to take the first bite. Felix is only slightly more patient as he digs into the cheesy, delicious thing. “It’s great,” he says around another big bite.

Ashe grins up at him. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Felix.” He rolls his eyes.

~

He ends up wandering for the rest of the morning, remembering all the secret spots he would hide away in as a kid. Sylvain, Dimitri and him would play hide and seek, running all across the castle through servant passageways and generally causing terror. Glenn knew them all better than him, of course, so he could hide away from the kids when they got too annoying. Felix’s heart burns with melancholy and he finds his way to the training grounds.

He spends the rest of the day trying to not think of his brother. He trains alone and then with some of Dimitri’s guard. He takes lunch alone in the gardens, sweat drying at his temples as he eats figs and cheese. Dimitri himself wants to train in the afternoon. They’re vicious and mean, Dimitri’s kingly mask slipping until he’s practically all boar. Felix loves it.

He returns to their quarters, sweaty, bruised and satisfied with his day. Sylvain’s nowhere to be found, but Felix doesn’t think much of it. Felix had been given handmaidens a week or two into arrival. At first it had been difficult to try and find jobs for them to do. It becomes easier once he learns their names, interests and slides them a few silver pieces at the end of each day. “Run a bath please. And have dinner delivered here.”

The smell of lavender blooms from the bathroom a few minutes later, carried on the warm wet air from the nearly boiling water. “It’s ready, Felix.” He stands from the vanity and gives her a smile. A moment later, a platter of food is delivered to him.

“Thank you both, don’t bother me for the rest of the night.” They giggle at him and leave his rooms. He sets the platter of finger food next to the steaming tub and strips out of his clothing. His skin pinkens under the steam as he sinks into the hot water. Felix reclines with a sigh, lifting his hair off the back of his sweaty neck and draping it over the back of the tub. He plucks bits of fruit from the plate and eats them, feeling luxurious and lazy.

He twists his hair up into a bun and eats a small piece of toast smeared with soft cheese. On the other side of the tub, his favorite oils and soaps are piled. He picks up a lumpy bar that smells like oranges and lathers it between his palms. Just as lazy as his eating had been, he draws the bar over his skin, careful of the scrapes he’d accumulated while training. Suds gather on the surface of the water as it slowly greys with the dirt of his day.

He’s about to start scrubbing the dead skin off his legs when the door to the bathroom slams open. “Goddess!” He startles, bath water sloshing over the edges of the tub and onto the stones. Sylvain looms in the doorway, face dark and lips set into a thin line. It takes a moment for his heavy scent to hit him. Earthy musk fills his nose, curdled with something too sweet, like the rotted fruit of an orchard. “Sylvain?” Even as he speaks, his eyes flutter, nearly faint with Sylvain’s scent.

He strides across the room instead of responding. Felix picks out details in quick bursts. Sylvain’s bloodied lip and bruised cheek, formal dress slightly mussed and eyes wild with rage. He grabs Felix by the jaw and whatever modesty had been preserved by the bath water is rendered useless when he’s dragged up onto his knees. Sylvain’s scent shifts back to something that Felix knows better, something more comforting and normal. Like Felix alone is enough to set him back into equilibrium. The thought makes heat flare through him and even with a fresh wash, he’s sure that his scent is painfully obvious. “What are you doing?” he whispers.

Sylvain curls an arm around his waist, apparently unphased by Felix’s soaking wet body, and crushes him into his chest. His nails bite into Felix’s waist as he breathes into his throat and then growls. He licks insistently at his wet skin and Felix realizes that he’s trying to rid him of the fragrance. Sylvain digs his nose back into the crook of his throat and breathes in his scent. A possessive growl rattles in his chest and vibrates through Felix’s entire body. “Want you,” he mutters. Felix’s mouth drops open. “He said…” He pauses and crushes Felix impossibly closer, now he can barely breathe. “Said that you’d be better off in his bed.”

Sylvain sounds positively murderous. Felix doesn’t ask who ‘he’ is and it doesn’t really matter. “Sylvain, don’t--”

“No,” Sylvain hisses. He lifts Felix out of the tub as if he weighs nothing. “You’re  _ mine _ .” Those are the exact words that’ve been spoken to Felix more times that he could count. By owners and knothead alphas, by Sylvain when they were kids and after their reunion. It makes his belly clench with fear, even while those rude words scratch some primal itch in the back of his head.

Sylvain tosses him onto the bed and Felix tries to scramble away. Memories crash over him as Sylvain grabs him by the ankle, dragging him back to the center of the mattress and crushing him below his body. His scent is hot as it fills Felix’s nose and mouth, a growl cutting through to his center as Sylvain starts to tug off his clothing. Felix’s mind races, searching for some way to get out of this, but his head is muddled by Sylvain’s scent. A cold shock pierces him as he realizes he’s about to be sent into heat.

Rationality falls away, replaced only with righteous anger as Felix kicks and thrashes under Sylvain. He’s strong but not strong enough, especially when Sylvain’s hand clamps over the back of his neck, scruffing him and forcing him to fall pliant. Like this, all Felix can do is stare sightlessly at the wall and wait. Nausea churns steadily in his belly, heat pricking in his eyes that he fights away with all his might. No matter what Sylvian might do to him, he will not cry. 

Sylvain rumbles above him, pleased with Felix’s apparent submission. His eyes flutter and his belly turns, trying to cling to the part of himself that doesn’t want this. It’s a fruitless effort when the cramps start, pain pulling all his muscles into tight knots. The need for relief creeps up on him and a dry sob claws its way out of his throat. No matter how badly he tells himself he doesn’t want it, his body needs it. Sylvain pulls his cock out, Felix can feel its length against the back of his thigh, wet insistent and wanting. Even worse, Felix’s body wants it too.

“Oh, darling,” Sylvain murmurs. His hand loosens at the back of Felix’s neck and he shudders in displeasure. Without the grip on him, now would be the time to scramble away, escape, hurt Sylvain like he’s tried to hurt Felix. But he doesn’t. His heat heavy mind takes over and he gets his knees under himself, lifting his hips up as his back falls into a perfect, omegan arch. “You’re in heat.” The words make Felix drip. He bites back the croon that builds in his chest, voices of dissent clamoring in his head.

Sylvain presses his cock between Felix’s legs, rubbing at his soft thighs before guiding the tip up between his folds. “Your body wants me… it knows that you need me, Felix.” It’s not true, Felix doesn’t want it to be true, but Sylvain’s pressing inside of him and Felix’s cunt blooms for him. His mind goes entirely silent then, knees going to jelly as his control of his own body is yanked out from under him. 

It’s nothing like getting dragged out of his cell by bastard guards or getting cornered in an alley. It’s Sylvain, the alpha he’s always been promised to, the alpha that he’s always belonged to--whether or not he’s known it. “You’re mine, omega.” Sylvain growls against the back of his neck and Felix knows it to be true. Sylvain shoves the last of his length inside of him, letting Felix feel the wide throb of his knot against his cunt. Disgust burns up his spine, but is almost immediately drowned by a heat addled pleasure.

Big hands cup his hips, keeping them held up high as Sylvain starts to fuck him. Felix whines against his will, pleasure fritzing up and down his spine in quick sparks. His skin tingles, his entire body tingles as Sylvain digs purple bruises into his hips and growls like a man possessed. The slide of his cock inside him is addictive and overwhelming. Sylvain reaches deep, deeper than Felix’s fingers ever could, kissing up against white hot spots of pleasure and a deep point that makes him ache.

“You’re made for me,” Sylvain growls. Felix wonders at his ability to still speak. He claws at the sheets, unsure if he’s trying to get away or push closer to the alpha. Somehow, his wires have gotten crossed, disgust and desire curling up into something hot and impossible to avoid in his belly. “No one will have you like this again.” Felix whimpers and his cunt spasms as he cums. “No one,” Sylvain says again, a possessive refrain that sounds more like a promise.

A puddle of Felix’s spend collects below him on the sheets as more orgasms are fucked out of him, until he’s sticky with sweat and half mad with sensitivity. Finally, Sylvain leans over him and circles and arm around his throat. He drags Felix up and fucks into him even rougher than before. Sylvain’s chest presses against his chest and his mouth finds Felix’s ear. “Gonna put a pup in your belly, get you nice and fat.”

His mouth drags down the line of Felix’s throat until his teeth are teasing at the sensitive swell of his scent gland. Fresh fear burns up Felix’s spine as Sylvain licks at his skin. “Everyone’s gonna know who you belong to, omega.” Felix’s cunt pulses and belated shame rolls over him. Sylvain huffs and gives a few more short thrusts before finally shoving his knot into Felix’s cunt. “Take it, take it,” Sylvain growls over and over, voice tapering off into a low moan as he spills into him. Felix whines and cums again, toes curling and body shuddering as his eyes fall shut.

~

The next time Felix comes back to himself, he’s not in heat. He’s not really sure how much time has passed. From the smell of his sweat and the state of his hair, at least a few days. Other bits come to him as well, cum leaking from his cunt and the heavy arm over his belly. And a throbbing in the side of his throat. With a shaking hand he touches the ragged, scabbed edge of a mating mark sunk into his shoulder.

He twists to the side and expects Sylvain to still be sleeping. Instead, he finds amber eyes, watching him carefully. Felix is a bit shocked to find a matching mark on Sylvain’s throat, one that he surely left there. In a few hours, he’ll probably be able to remember the events of their shared heat more clearly. “What now?” He says.

Sylvain shrugs. “I guess we keep making up for lost time.”

Felix sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. A smile threatens to break across Sylvain’s face and he sighs. “Yeah, I guess so.”


End file.
